


Missing Pages

by alphabetcities



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Noir, Come on every fandom needs at least one, M/M, Mostly backstory compliant with some minor changes, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-17
Updated: 2018-06-17
Packaged: 2019-05-24 17:23:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,493
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14958864
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alphabetcities/pseuds/alphabetcities
Summary: "There are enough mysteries in Mollymauk Tealeaf’s line of work without his partner being one too. But the slim file his commanding officer drops on his desk that morning certainly raises more questions than it answers."A Noir/ Detective AU. Molly is investigating a series of unusual break ins in the Tri-Spire area when he is assigned a new partner to offer a fresh perspective on things.





	Missing Pages

**Author's Note:**

> I'm using British police ranks as it's what I know / because the majority of the Nein have European accents, but please don't read this expecting an in depth knowledge of how police departments here work, I'm just here for the Noir aesthetic.

There are enough mysteries in Mollymauk Tealeaf’s line of work without his partner being one too. But the slim file his commanding officer drops on his desk that morning certainly raises more questions than it answers.

“You can’t be serious?” He says, eyebrow raised, as it lands softly on the desk in front of him. “I’ve seen thicker files on recruits who’ve only been in the force for six months. I thought you told me this guy was experienced?”

His CO gives a helpless shrug. “That’s what I was told. The letter from Rexxentrum PD said he’d be on the force for ten years. I’m just as confused by it as you are.”

“Huh.”

“You can ask him about it when you meet him later today. He’s going to meet you at the diner off of the Pentamarket at five, and then you can take him to the crime scenes. I know you’ve gone over them with a fine toothed comb, but we could really use a fresh perspective on things.”

“Sure. I'm up for anything that will give us some new leads.” The CO nods, and disappears off, leaving Molly alone with the thin manilla folder. The label reads "DCI Caleb Widogast", in neat printed letters.

He opens the file and a young man stares back at him from a black and white polaroid. Early twenties, with unusually light eyes and an air of confidence that exudes from the photograph. Caleb Widogast, born 05/02/1910 in Blumenthal. The notes from his time at the police academy describe an exemplary student; fiercely intelligent, fluent in three languages and top of every class. There’s a handwritten note from the Captain in Rexxentrum, filled with effusive praise for the potential of Police Constable Widogast, along with the assertion that Widogast would take her job one day, and she’d be happy to step aside for him. 

And then, barely anything. A letter, all but entirely redacted, that appears to be a recommendation for an elite unit in Special Branch. Something that might be a hospital release form, but really could be anything, seeing as all locations, names, and vaguely useful information is crossed out with black marker. And finally, a short letter dated a month ago, only two lines long, stating that DCI Widogast had been declared fit for service following an extended leave of absence. Stapled to the letter is a more up to date polaroid, and Molly’s first instinct is to think there’s been a mistake, that some strangers portrait had found its way into the file. Because the second photograph looks like a different man entirely.

The confident young man from before is gone, replaced by a slightly blurred figure with his eyes averted from the camera, a battered trench coat hanging awkwardly off of his too thin frame. The man looks older than the thirty-three years his birth date purports him to be, aged by the dark circles and worry lines on his brow. He’s attractive, definitely, but that wouldn’t be your first thought upon meeting him, or even your third or fourth. That’s more likely to be that he’s in need of a good meal, a shave, a serious haircut and at least a month’s solid sleep. 

Molly gently places the first photograph next to the second and desperately searches for some kind of connection between the two men. Though they sit only a few inches apart, the gulf between them seems enormous.

\---

When Molly arrives at the diner his new partner is already there, head buried in a paper and hands nursing a cup of coffee. Molly finally gets to add some colour to the black and white polaroids from before: Caleb’s thick, curled hair is a reddish brown, copper where it catches the fluorescent lights of the diner, and the unusually pale eyes turn out to be an eerie and unnerving shade of blue.

Those same eyes flick up to meet Molly’s as he enters, then dart away again. He closes the paper and stands.

“Mollymauk Tealeaf, I take it?” The man, Caleb, says. His voice is soft, with the trace of an accent. Zemnian, at a guess.

“The very same.” Molly replies. “And you would be Caleb Widogast?”

Caleb nods, offers his hand and Molly takes it. The handshake is firm, but the lack of eye contact belies Caleb's lack of ease with the situation. When Molly pulls away Caleb’s hand darts back quickly to the comfort of his coffee cup.

Caleb’s anxiety is palpable from how he holds himself as if he’s trying to make himself a smaller target, to the way his eyes dart from exit to exit periodically. Molly’s seen this kind of behaviour before, but only in much older officers, people who’ve had a lifetime of experience of danger being around every corner. Never in a DCI, and certainly not in one who seems to have been out of action for such a long time.

“So… You’re to be my new partner, huh?” Molly feels oddly nervous. It’s almost as if Caleb’s sense of unease is contagious.

“That is evident, yes.”

“And you’re going to be helping me investigate the break ins in the Tri-Spire area?”

“Yes, that is the plan.”

“And do you have any thoughts on it? From the files?”

“A few.”

Gods, this is going to be difficult. Molly’s had an easier time getting information out of perps. Hell, Molly’s had an easier time getting information out of cadavers. 

If he’d known how difficult Caleb would be to talk to he’d have arranged this meeting in a bar, where at least the alcohol could help ease the conversation along. But for now nicotine would have to do. He draws a packet of cigarettes from his breast pocket. He offers one to Caleb, who shakes his head. Molly shrugs, lights his own cigarette and takes a long drag.

“Anyway, the CO would like me to take you round the crime scenes. See if a new pair of eyes can come up with anything. Let me finish my cigarette and we’ll head off.”

Caleb nods. Silence stretches out between them. Molly jumps to fill it, seeing as there’s clearly no chance that Caleb will. 

“I heard that you transferred from Rexxentrum?”

“You heard correctly.”

“But you weren’t there long?”

“A month.”

“And where were you before that?”

“Somewhere else.” 

The urge to ask him about the missing pages and redacted letters is unbearable. He knows he shouldn’t bring it up, but he’s never been able to leave things well enough alone, to let sleeping dogs lie. A good trait in a cop. Less good in someone trying to make a decent first impression with a new partner. He opens his mouth. Closes it again. Thinks “Fuck it.” and says it anyway.

“I couldn’t help but notice that there are a lot of years missing from your file.”

Caleb takes a long sip of his coffee. There’s a pause, and then Caleb meets his eyes. Only for a split second, but there’s something electric about it. It seems for the best that Caleb seems reluctant to meet his gaze, as the intensity of it is really quite something.

“From what I hear, Mollymauk Tealeaf,” he says slowly, “There are a lot of years missing from your head.”

Molly laughs. “Touché. So you heard about that then?”

“It was rather hard to avoid. You were on the front page of the papers, even in the North. ‘Detective Inspector Survives Point Blank Gunshot To The Head’.”

“'The Miraculous Mollymauk Tealeaf', that’s what the papers called me.”

“And do you think it was a miracle? What happened to you?”

“It’s just something that happened. Whether it’s good or bad is what I make of it.”

Caleb nods. He pauses for a second, as if trying to find his words.

“Is it true then? That you have no memories prior to five years ago?”

“Yeah.” He takes another drag. This definitely should have been a conversation for a bar. “It’s true. Does it worry you?”

“No. Not at all. I am a firm believer in second starts.”

Molly smiles. “We should get along just fine then.” It almost seems for a second that Caleb smiles back, but it’s so brief that it could have been a trick of the fluorescent lights. “The memory loss wasn’t mentioned in the papers though. Where did you hear about it?”

“From another officer.”

“In Rexxentrum?”

“No.”

“In Special Branch?”

The change in demeanour is almost imperceptible, but Molly is nothing if he isn’t observant. Caleb’s fingers tighten around his coffee cup, the line of his mouth hardens, and his shoulders hunch just slightly.

“We should go." Caleb says firmly. "I would like to see the crime scenes now, if possible.”

He doesn’t give Molly a chance to respond. Caleb lays a few coins on the table, and walks out. Molly stubs out his cigarette and follows, trading one mystery for another.


End file.
